


down to the end

by ninata



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night (Visual Novel)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, Drabble Collection, Falling In Love, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, does anyone still call stuff that anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-07-04 07:10:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15836304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninata/pseuds/ninata
Summary: A few shots of the years between and during Fate/Zero and Fate/Stay Night that Kirei Kotomine and Gilgamesh spent together. (I will walk down to the end / with you, if you will come / all the way down, with me)





	1. first half

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for:  
> -discussion of past self harm  
> -references to alcoholism  
> -not very subtle references to sex  
> -a gently worded scene where gilgamesh throws up  
> -discussion of suicide  
> -bad brain...bad brain  
> this is canon compliant, so these are all with the idea in mind that kirei bites it at the end, and then hollow ataraxia happens. enjoy?

Gilgamesh’s fingers latch onto the hairs on the nape of Kirei's neck. An uncomfortable prickle of sensation creeps up onto Kirei. He can’t say he hates it, but the only thing he can say for sure is that it’s confusing.

Two lips, dragging off the corner of his own, down against the line of his jaw. He stares down at Gilgamesh, his red cheeks, his eyes softly shut, all of it blurry in their proximity. He reeks of wine, but Kirei had gotten used to this as well.

“Gilgamesh…” He begins, as if to complain about their position, but he thinks better of it. The chuckle that rises out of that throat leads Kirei to believe any complaint would simply be ignored.

 _It isn’t so awful,_ he thinks mildly, but perhaps his willingness to accept the situation is more uncomfortable than the situation itself. One chest flush against his own, a beating heart against a still one, Gilgamesh curled up in Kirei's lap like a housecat. A common scene since the end of the Fourth Holy Grail War. Was that a bad thing? Perhaps.

“Lean your head down,” Gilgamesh says. Kirei can't make anything of the tone he takes. He complies, hesitantly, knowing what will happen next…

...And, of course, it happens. Gilgamesh impatiently tugging him down to meet him, waiting for his mouth to part so he can shove that obscene tongue of his into it. How many times has this happened, now? A part of him had believed this arrangement would stop after the war, but it seemed to only happen more often once there was less work to be done. Of course, that _was_ more on Gilgamesh's part, him spending most of his time lounging around the church with no other heroic spirits to fight, but…

He hadn't tired of it, yet. That was unexpected. Kirei didn't think he'd hold his attention for this long. It'd been almost a full year, yet here they were.

Gilgamesh is chuckling again, which feels...odd. Something about the idea of someone laughing with their mouth against Kirei's feels inane. What gave him the nerve to cling onto him and _laugh?_ He could spend hours trying to figure out why Gilgamesh did everything he did, but he'd simply give himself a headache.

Maybe thinking nothing of it was wearing him down, as well.

"Kirei," Gilgamesh croons, a hand brushing past his cheek to cradle the side of his face, "Don't make such a boring face. It spoils your looks."

"My...looks." Kirei repeats incredulously. No one had directed such a sentiment at him like that before. Not even…

"Yes, that's so." Gilgamesh's nose tucks itself next to his adam's apple as he sinks further into poor posture. "But perhaps that's your charm?"

"What are you saying?" Kirei's eyes focus on the wallpaper on the other side of the room.

"Ha! Who knows." He's smiling. Kirei can tell. Why can he tell? He doesn't like that he can. "Kiss me again, and perhaps I'll make sense of it."

What is that even supposed to mean? Or does he know what it could mean and fear it?

Kirei, who had been sitting impassively underneath him, gingerly puts a hand on his far shoulder, pulls him a bit closer. Gilgamesh's eyes crack open, a glint of red, that smile widening. Something burns inside him. Something inside him seems to hurt. He brushes Gilgamesh's bangs out of his face, and those eyes shut again.

He kisses him.

 

* * *

 

Kirei wakes up as the sky starts to shift from an inky black to grey.

Distantly, he’s aware of a nightmare. A face he couldn’t parse (and he never can), green ichor pouring out from an empty eye socket. _It doesn’t hurt,_ she said, and then he awoke. Perhaps another man would find that distressing, but despite the tears running down his temples, Kirei isn’t upset.

He couldn’t be sad then, he couldn't be sad now.

He knows to move cautiously, his hand brushing against the wet skin around his eyes. The hypocrisy is almost comical. Gilgamesh is asleep, sprawled out beside him, his back against Kirei’s side. Kirei’s been shoved to the edge of the bed as usual, but it would take an impressive idiot to be offended at this point. What else would he expect?

He sits up, continuing making efforts not to disturb the man next to him. Gilgamesh doesn’t stir. His chest fills and falls with air, the beginnings of sunlight caught on his skin, not an ounce of tension in that body as he sleeps. When he's like this, you can hardly believe the man is as proud and crude as he is when awake.

It isn't...awful to see him like this. Gilgamesh talks often of humans ruining his possessions, and how they'd have to pay for the slight. The grail’s whispering in those ears, glittering with golden jewelry. _All of this must end._ What would he be like if that weren't so? What if he could be summoned at a time where—

...Nonsense. Kirei must be half asleep still. He won't think anymore of a Gilgamesh that doesn't want humanity eradicated. Their motivations agree with each other, after all. He has no need to question it.

Yet—

His hand takes a lock of Gilgamesh’s hair, examining it. Unsure of what he’s doing, Kirei runs his thumb over it a few times, then lets his fingers run back through all of it. For a moment he’s stricken— he thinks, _What manner of idiocy is this?_ Gilgamesh’s lips curl up at their corners, his face pressing into the sheets.

“Kirei…” He mumbles drowsily. Kirei’s surprised. Gilgamesh is awake, then? He hadn’t thought he was. He thinks to withdraw his hand, but for some reason it stays, gently combing through those layers of gold. He thinks of a time where being this close to someone, he could only think of killing her. A face he can’t remember, but one so sunken in, bruising at every touch, all he wanted to do was put her out of her misery—

...Put her out of her misery? How strange. He’d never thought of it in such terms. Why lie about what it was now, of all times?

Confusing thoughts swirl and swirl, something stinging behind his eyes. Why was he thinking about her? Why dream of her? Why didn't he want to hurt Gilgamesh? Wasn't that what Kirei enjoyed the most? What possessed him to sit here next to him, caressing him? There was no reason Kirei could conjure up to properly justify it. Something must be wrong with him this morning. An odd mood, but surely it'll pass… After all, he was never the type of man to treat someone like this. Not even after a couple years of living together. And whatever was tightening in his chest at such a pathetic display— ludicrous. Why was Gilgamesh allowing this? And why was Kirei...

“...mn...Kirei…?” Gilgamesh’s smile shifts to a frown as he rubs his eyes. “...What are you doing?”

Kirei blinks a few times. Or...did he just wake up now? How confusing.

“...My apologies.” He pulls his hand back, and Gilgamesh stretches his back a bit before lifting his head.

“Hm.” He squints at Kirei. “...Are you crying?”

“I don’t—” He swipes at his face, raising his eyebrows. “...How curious. I haven’t the slightest idea why.” And he doesn’t, really. He must've been staring for so long his eyes got irritated.

“No matter. I’m hungry,” Gilgamesh tosses the blankets aside, the sunlight glowing against all that skin properly, now. Kirei stares out to the window.

“I can make breakfast.” The sky is a pearly grey, colors seeping into the heavy clouds. Kirei looks at it dully, unimpressed. His feet hit the floor, and he stands up.

He considers pulling the curtains shut, but changes his mind. He walks to his dresser, and he thinks of nothing.

 

* * *

 

For a while, Kirei had thought of it to be impossible. But tonight, in all the time they’ve spent together, is the first time Gilgamesh has drank too much.

There’s a question into how deep their connection as a master and a servant goes, as well as how much power he has in his physical form as a heroic spirit. That’ll be worth investigating later, when he isn’t passed out on the floor.

“Gilgamesh.” Kirei edges closer, almost fearful the wrong move will get Gate of Babylon unleashed upon him in the stupor. Gilgamesh has an empty bottle of wine (among countless) within his fingers reach, rolling softly against the hardwood. He _does_ appear to be asleep, but it’s still risky. Even if it isn’t the Gate of Babylon, he wouldn’t appreciate cleaning up broken glass either.

He crouches by him, still wary.

“...Gilgamesh?” He gives his shoulder a shake. No response. “Gilgamesh.”

Kirei is swatted at. He frowns. “Are you awake? Get up then.”

“Nnnnooooo.” Gilgamesh slurs. “S’fine. Fine here. ’M...sleeping.”

“You can’t sleep here.”

“Mmrngh.”

Kirei sighs.

“...Is this about that dream?”

Gilgamesh stills.

“I saw it.” Kirei frowns. “If it was something you’d want to talk about, I assumed you’d mention it. But here you are. What could some green haired woman—“

“Not a woman.”

“A man, then—“

“No.”

Kirei shakes his head. _“No matter_ who they are, was their death so upsetting?”

Gilgamesh goes quiet again.

“...Gilgamesh?”

“I’m going to throw up.”

Kirei makes a face. “Get up, then.”

“Carry me…”

His voice is soft. It gets like that at times, in his moments of weakness. It must be the alcohol.

Kirei hauls him to his feet, trying hard not to jostle him too much. He doesn’t want to clean that up, either.

Proving he’s unable to walk himself, Kirei shoulders all of Gilgamesh’s weight. He’s docile like this, like a ragdoll. It’s a hassle with just one arm, but he’ll just carry him differently once he’s done. The trip to the bathroom is quick, and Gilgamesh handles his business while Kirei watches, standing, his arms folded. Here he was, playing the babysitter again.

“Are you done?” Kirei asks, Gilgamesh wiping his lips.

“Yes.” He says. “I’m fine, now.”

“Hardly.” A scoff. “You’re pale as a sheet.”

“I said I’m _fine.”_ Gilgamesh asserts. “I’m getting more wine.”

That strikes Kirei as particularly stupid, so he advances upon him. “What’re you—“ He hoists him into the air without saying anything else, opting to carry him in his arms. “What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing, you mongrel?!”

As Gilgamesh squirms and attempts to free himself, Kirei remains indifferent to the attacks. Gilgamesh smacks his palm into Kirei’s cheek and _shoves,_ but he doesn’t falter.

He dumps him unceremoniously in bed.

“You ingrate—“

“Go to bed, Gilgamesh.”

Whoever that person with the shining green hair was, they obviously meant a lot to him. Kirei could tell. Though he’d never felt that way himself about someone, couldn’t even remember the faces of people who had died in his life, he knew Gilgamesh had loved that person.

So he drank? How pathetic. The King of Heroes was cowardly, wasn’t he? Was just the reminder of their death enough to throw him off? It would appear a demigod was more human than Kirei himself was.

On that mental note, he turns. He still has work from the church to handle. That McRemitz woman was being considered for the war, and it's under his jurisdiction to 'aid' her. If Gilgamesh gets back out of bed...he’ll just throw him back in. Maybe use a command spell. Again, he wasn’t going to clean up all the sickness he’d spew everywhere unattended.

He’ll think of such asinine issues no further. Work.

He steps forward, only to be pulled back. Surprised, he turns his head.

“Kirei.”

They stare at each other for a few moments. Gilgamesh’s face has regained some of its color, his expression slack. His lips are still red from all he drank, shining in the dim light.

“...Stay here.”

How bothersome. Gilgamesh isn’t normally needy like this. Kirei has no reason to entertain him when he has better things to do.

“Fine.” He says, to his own chagrin. He doesn’t know why he’d give in like that, but he takes off his robes, and helps Gilgamesh out of his jacket. When he lies down, Gilgamesh turns away.

But he drags Kirei’s hand underneath and past him, holding it in his own without a word. Kirei’s arm, doomed to fall asleep under him. Shouldn’t this infuriate Kirei? Shouldn’t this be an inconvenience he isn’t willing to endure?

And yet, he endures. In one moment, a thought crosses his mind— that it isn’t so bad to endure his affections. Perhaps, in times like this, it's almost nice.

 _Nice?_ What does Kirei know of niceness?

Unsure of what to make of that, he closes his eyes.

 

* * *

 

Around two years before the fifth Grail War, Kirei Kotomine realizes he is in love.

There is no gratification in this realization. The fact that he has been successfully beguiled by the King of all Kings brings no comfort in the remaining business he must handle before attempting to summon Angra Mainyu.

Is it supposed to?

After all of his life, fumbling miserably with his humanity, failing and failing again to be anything like he should’ve been, forsaken by God, looked upon as an other by even his own father, nervously, as a burden or a ticking time bomb—

After trying to do what was expected of him and failing, after the death of his wife, after an adolescence spent dislocating and breaking his own bones and breaking his skin only to be confused how he bled just the same as anyone else, and yet was _lacking—_

What happiness does he find in that only after turning his back on Him, on everything, on the values he was raised with, abandoning what he vowed by, he has fallen in love with a rotten, corrupted king, drunk on the blackened slime of a broken Grail?

What _is_ the point of love? What does it change? If he were to say it, Gilgamesh would only laugh at him. It would confuse the situation, because in _what_ stretch of the imagination would Gilgamesh swoon at the sentiment, would smile, would even remotely reciprocate that feeling?

He knows what's between them. It’s an arrangement of convenience. Their motives line up with each other. They both desire destruction, and they’ll get that or, more likely, die in its pursuit. Kirei doesn’t have a chance of living past this war. Even in his best of plans, he doesn’t really believe he’ll win the grail, either. The best case scenario is Angra Mainyu manifesting. Even if he won— even if he wins. He’ll hardly wish for another chance at life.

So, what of it?

If this is love— and though Kirei is by no means an expert— what should he expect? What, does he declare they should run away together? Leave all this behind them? After all his work? After all he did to make this so? After all he sacrificed, and every life he snuffed? Is he supposed to abandon all reason and chase after an impossible ideal? Is he supposed to think it’ll work itself out when even suggesting so is an awful joke?

He doesn’t even _want_ to leave. In fact, he doesn’t _want_ to outlive this war. He doesn’t want to find happiness. If he had that left in him after all this time— ha! If he ever even had such a desire inside him at ANY point past his immaturity in childhood, he’d be stunned, moreso than he was at recognizing this feeling as love! What was there to be gained in living another twenty, another ten, even another single year past that war?

He was faulty.

That’s right, he was faulty goods. Breaking those bones, cutting that flesh, looking upon others with resentment for their normalcy, feeling _joy_ at their misery— he hadn’t ever wanted to live a long life! He thought he must, and he tried, but by the time leading up to his wife’s passing, he had already exhausted every possible way to find happiness! The Root— the _Root?_ Kirei couldn’t even find a reason to live past the use of others. It wasn’t until he met Gilgamesh that he could even dream of acting upon his own wishes alone. How was he supposed to care about some conceptual mage nonsense? Why seek deeper understanding of life through magecraft when he couldn’t even understand what a non-magus could?

If love could save him, it’d be a miracle. But God had already proven His attention was elsewhere. Nothing could bring Kirei salvation. Nothing could change him. That'd been his reality for over twenty of the past years of his life. No God would save him, give him reason, no matter how much he bled, or did what he was told, or suffered in His name. He was a monster, after all.

He didn’t _want_ some domestic life. He didn’t _want_ any world where Gilgamesh said yes. He didn’t _want_ to want to live, and he didn’t want to be fixed. All he wanted was to hold that disgusting God that made him this way by His throat— no, no, not even that! To look at Him, to look away. To direct Him one question— _Why? Why am I this way? Why did you do this to me?_ Knowing no answer could satisfy him. And anger was past him, and sadness was past him, and even the euphoria he felt in violence too would sweep past him until the hollow smile that had become his default faltered. Because at the core of him, after all he had endured, after a half-life and a thousand deaths by his hands, he was nothing.

He was always, always nothing.

Love didn’t matter. Kirei didn’t matter. He couldn’t say it, couldn’t, couldn’t couldn’t. He never could. Never in his life could he ever find his truth, let alone speak it. Saying it would change nothing. Not even if it was a yes. And above all, not even if it took a weight off his shoulders. Not even in having some miniscule humanity inside him would he feel relief. Not even in letting the person who finally _meant_ something, and he _knew_ they meant something while they were alive yet, letting them know they had changed him, even a little, and made him even the slightest bit happy…

That, a small moment of reprieve before finally dying, is beyond him. And he doesn’t deserve it. If he could even admit he wanted that small comfort most, over any delusions of happiness, he could never seek it out. That while he didn’t long for longevity, or want a happy ending, that while all of that, of course, was true, he couldn’t say he didn’t want one tiny moment of confiding one final thing in that man, and even— even thanking him.

Even just a _Thank you, you gave me solace_ was beyond him.

He knows this.

And in that, he will— he won’t— he shouldn’t bring it up.

It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t matter. Gilgamesh shouldn’t know. Kirei doesn’t need to tell him.

He doesn’t. He doesn’t. He _doesn’t._

That has to be so, because if the opposite was true, he’d be ruined.

 

* * *

 

"Why are you doing this?"

Gilgamesh doesn't say that kind of thing often.

Kirei turns, his hand still on the cellar door. His eyebrows raise.

"What? You aren't taking an issue with it _morally,_ are you? After all this time?" He scoffs.

"Of course not." Gilgamesh angrily flicks golden hair out of his face, as if taking a moral stand would offend him. Either sentiment is amusing. "I just want to know why."

"Why...what?"

"Why are you doing this?" This referring to the state of the church’s cellar.

Kirei frowns. "For your mana, of course. I told you that."

And he had. That's the reasoning he'd used for it.

Why, pray tell, would a man drain the life out of orphans in a basement? Why would he do that to the children Kiritsugu Emiya didn't choose to save? There were plenty of reasons.

For amusement, firstly. Their suffering was enjoyable. The irony of doing this— doing it to the children that Emiya simply didn't happen upon while staggering around burning Fuyuki, those he left to the whims of fate after taking a singular child in— it was hilarious. If there was one thing Kirei had learned in all these years, it was to laugh.

Watching them wither away? Cathartic! Children with nothing left, children who no one wanted to save, so easily they came under his care, and so easily they withered. That was right— he'd said it long before, that he was awful with children. To take what was once a horrible truth, to twist it, to sneer at the him that once had thought a family would be his salvation!

And, of course, the reason he said.

Gilgamesh...needed mana, of course. A physical body he may have, but a heroic spirit needed mana regardless. How else could Gilgamesh still utilize the Gate of Babylon? His potion of youth— which Kirei despised— was a product of that mana, most certainly.

"You know I don't need it." Gilgamesh folds his arms. "I've plenty of mana."

...How quickly the lie crumbles.

Kirei begins, then stops. Gilgamesh's gaze is piercing, those thin pupils picking him apart. He had left it at the lie and refused to go further all this time, yet...

Does Gilgamesh want the answer? Does Kirei have it? Does he want to find it?

His lips press into a firm line.

Why, then? If he'd feel no shame in admitting it was for his amusement, why was there shame?

What other reason could there be? He knew all along that they transferred mana enough in other ways to render the orphans useless. If not for mana, why would he do this?

Gilgamesh shifts his weight onto his foot, giving an expectant look, and Kirei knows the answer without tearing his brain apart.

"Yes, I do know that." He sighs out, a stoniness inching through his fingers, into his face. "I only wanted to prove myself, I suppose."

There's a short pause. "Prove yourself?" Gilgamesh's confusion is genuine. "Prove what? Your depravity?"

"If that's what you'd like to think." Kirei says dryly.

With those words, he shifts his eyes away. His shoulders turn, and he takes one step away from the door.

"...Kirei?" There's a note of something Kirei can recognize in his voice. He knows it well— fear. He snorts, closing his eyes.

He'll have no more on the subject, then. He feels the tide beginning rise, something threatening to consume him. That accursed feeling he hated to name. How laughable, that a dead man would dare to feel after a life lived in apathy.

Perhaps he wanted to prove in some profane, violent way, in the way someone who can only kill can dream up, that he loved him.

He walks away, leaving Gilgamesh none the wiser. Today as well, he can’t bring himself to say it.

 

* * *

 

"I wonder," Kirei says, eyes glazed over, cast over the empty pews in the frigid, dusty air.

"Mm? What do you wonder?" Gilgamesh is the only one in them, sitting up at the front right. Out of his line of vision.

"Which one of us shall die first."

A pause. Gilgamesh snorts. "How grim, Kirei. But, go ahead. I'm interested."

"Was that not the point of your tale, Gilgamesh? That all things die, and how unavoidable it is. That those important to you died."

This time the silence is tense. Kirei can feel him glaring, but that doesn't matter to him.

"You've noticed, haven't you? The same is true for myself. They always die."

"Your point?" Sharply.

Kirei mulls it over, how he wants to say it. _Shouldn’t,_ something echoes, but after Shirou Emiya trounced in and showed his command seals, Kirei followed an impulse. A whim. "By associating with each other, one of us must die. But who will go first? It's a peculiar situation."

"What are you trying to say by that?" Gilgamesh barks back.

"I'm trying to ask," Kirei's voice is completely level. No shreds of emotion, but are there truly ever? Have there been in this past decade? In his life? "Who the will of the world shall punish first."

Gilgamesh makes an irritated noise, shifting loudly in his seat. The creak of the wood pierces the cold, cruelly. The flecks of dust in the moonlight flutter just as they had been, undisturbed by the sound, descending from the windows to the floor pointlessly ad infinitum. But that noise is cruel, and Kirei shuts his eyes. He wonders what his face is doing. What it looks like to him.

"I suppose we'll see." Gilgamesh says, not sounding too enthusiastic about it.

Perhaps he'd addressed it the wrong way. If Kirei had been more direct, maybe. But being direct was something neither of them were fond of.

 _You shouldn’t,_ he tells himself. _So don’t._

...That’s it, then. The closest he'd ever gotten. The most he'd ever spoke aloud about it.

 _It's fine that way._ Kirei thinks. _I always knew his answer._

For it wasn't a feeling, and it wasn't anything corporeal. It was nothing, and Kirei was a well of nothingness. Gilgamesh was cruel, and Kirei crueler. What was there between them? Gilgamesh showed him what he really was. All the times he had been called a monster, called heartless, called a murderer— it was all true, and he had always been beyond God's salvation. Any times he may have dreamed otherwise were just that— dreams.

Gilgamesh would say no, of course. He has no illusions of that.

Resolute. No more regrets, now. Whether he wins or he loses, it matters not. He shall see the Grail to completion, or won’t. And then, he'll die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! people said they'd be interested in this, so i compiled a bunch of stuff and wrote out ideas i had floating around my head. technically these are all in chronological order (from right after the 4th to the beginning of the 5th grail wars) but...  
> when i finish heaven's feel, i may want to write a bit more of specific scenes in that route/something about the ending! so i'm leaving this 'unfinished' for now.  
> i'm really procrastinating a bunch of important work, so i don't know when this will be finished, but it will be eventually?! i've been very inspired by kirei and i want to write more on him.  
> i hope this doesn't come off as too..."boo hoo he was just SAD he didn't MEAN to kill all those people" i'm not an apologist Per Say i just think he's not the awful person the fandom thinks he is, and i don't even think nasu really believes that kirei is all evil. (and i know jouji nakata likes him a lot, so...!)  
> i guess i'll just be here generating non-cursed sad content about them. leave it to me...  
> thanks for the read! hope it was a good one.


	2. heaven's feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ingame thoughts written while playing heaven's feel in the visual novel  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings for:  
> explicit gore  
> self harm/suicide  
> a lot of bad brain  
> child abuse  
> some stuff about cannibalism/throwing up  
> heaven's feel...spoilers? it's been out too long  
> they fuck  
> includes which interludes they correspond to at the beginning of most of them

**interlude 8-4**

Pleasure.

If there was one thing Gilgamesh had been set on all those years ago, his lips stained purple, empty bottles rolling across the church's floor as a dangerous smile curled against his cheeks, he had been determined to teach Kirei of that much.

They had sex more times than Kirei could remember. Gilgamesh had always been a man of indulgences.

If he is surprised Kirei now knows nothing else but it, perhaps Gilgamesh never knew him at all. That thought scares Kirei a little, seeing as Gilgamesh was the only man who had ever been so kind to him— _Claudia,_ something calls distantly, but Kirei hesitates to reply to it—

Gilgamesh's pride will be his downfall, just as it always was. It's underestimating everything around him that will kill him. Kirei knows. Kirei knows, and he, who derives pleasure from others' suffering, from those not even knowing until it's too late…

...Hates it.

Maybe Gilgamesh taught Kirei something he wasn't expecting. Maybe his tutelage granted Kirei something he hadn't dreamt of before. _Claudia,_ his brain says again, and he sighs at the sentiment in a dull, resigned agony.

He'd sworn he wouldn't say anything. He'd sworn he'd forget about it. He'd sworn that as soon as the killing started, he wouldn't betray a single thread of indecision, a scrap of feeling, nothing as perverse and ridiculous as wanting Gilgamesh to stay by his side, nothing as stupid as gratitude or a brush of the hands.

Gilgamesh had left it behind, and so had he. He had. He was sure he had.

They had nothing anymore. Or rather, they never had anything. Saying that was the only thing keeping him sane.

Just has he hadn't loved Gilgamesh, he hadn't cared for Rin Tohsaka. He hadn't felt any guilt in Sakura Matou's circumstances, he had never pitied Shirou Emiya, this whole town could shrivel up and die and he wouldn't care. He'd save no one. He was an apathetic, sadistic man with no kindness in his heart.

The whole world will learn the depths of his depravity, he thinks. He'll send it plummeting into the same despair he fell into himself, all those years ago…

...All those years ago? When?

Kirei blinks in the candlelight.

Gilgamesh was going to die here. With a certainty he wasn't used to, Kirei deduced Gilgamesh would die first.

His fingers play with the edge of the paper reading _fifty seven victims, five dead._ He doesn't care for them. He cares for nothing.

His pain is nothing. He'll smile when Gilgamesh dies. He always wanted to see him die.

He always wanted to lose everything, so he could die in peace.

 _It's fine that way._ Kirei thinks again. _I always knew his answer._

 

* * *

 

**interlude 10-4**

Gilgamesh advances on him.

"We shouldn't, you know."

Kirei says that first, knowing the other's intentions. His eyes, hard, stay fixed on the sky beyond the church's arched window. A smile he forgot is still drifting around his skull like fog, someone he wondered if he loved, and finally, resolutely, in the face of death, decided he could not have.

The Grail is so close. His head hums, which is good. He couldn't stand the silence. Love is a long way away. He was never going to play pretend, and he was never going to say thank you.

Gilgamesh grabs him by his shoulder, pushing him to face him. Their eyes cross each other's, struggling to settle, until Kirei is pinned suddenly. Gilgamesh's eyes wax, wane, wax, his expression something Kirei refuses to examine. He had become thoughtful as of late. He had invested so much time into examining his nature, as if that would change his mind, or save his soul. He had thought he had gotten somewhere in knowing his intentions, but of course, that was simply fancy. Just like all things before, Kirei has gotten to the end of the ladder and decided to haul himself back up than descend into the depths. What lays at the bottom doesn't interest him. How could it? It doesn't.

"You..." Gilgamesh says, and the word scalds Kirei. _Don't. Not like this. Not now._ It's burning hot, but Gilgamesh reins himself back. "That's why we have to." _Thank God._ That seems more like him. The cruel spirit bent on wiping out humanity. They're still well-suited, to Kirei's displeasure. Even when they don't care for each other. Even when they would sacrifice each other on the drop of a hat.

Kirei's posture changes just a little. Gilgamesh grabs the collar of his shirt, and pulls him down—

_Winding, further and further down. Kirei remembers, rope and how it scratches his throat. Pieces of it stuck in his skin. He vows to die today. Falling and falling, falling endlessly, for years and years until it jerks him back, tendrils invading his head, yanking him back so harshly he feels his spine give. Incredible pleasure, release of pressure, he's never felt so perfect before, he's so glad it's over. He'll never hurt ever again. But Caren is crying. He's just holding the rope in his hands. What exactly was he imagining? He shakes his head and it rolls off his shoulders. Caren is crying. He needs to go check on the baby. Claudia got worse today. They had to take out her eye. The socket, he imagines, bleeds something green. "It doesn't hurt, Kirei, don't worry." She gasps, but why is she saying that? He isn't worried. People like him don't worry. He doesn't love her, after all. He looks at the rope again. It'd be quick. But Caren is crying. He puts the rope away before he fusses over her, bleeding the same green as his dying wife somewhere deep inside._

Their lips are cold. It's cold. Gilgamesh's mouth opens. Kirei gives way, but it won’t save him. It can’t anymore. Gilgamesh’s mouth is—

_His hands are shaking. "Go on," his father says, and his voice was always so warm, so proud of him. "Start eating." They say it takes a lot of willpower to take the first bite, but Kirei was always a boy of an iron will, just like his father wanted. His teeth sink into his finger, deep, deep down into the flesh, which sets off every alarm in his body. Kirei coughs, releases. "Go on, son! You can do it!" Lightly. Kindly. He must forget the alarms. He must work past everything his brain tells him. He is wrong, because everything he's ever thought has been proven wrong by his father, the church, and the people around him. Kirei is such a fool, but he learns quickly. The problem is the taste of blood, which cakes his tongue, but Kirei never forgets it because he always knew it. It was all he ever knew. He'd never lived any other way, because this was what his father had wanted for him, so lovingly, such a kind father, his father truly loved him, everyone told him he did. Kirei doesn't cry as he sinks his teeth into the joint of his finger, then clear through it. It’s so wet. The bone against his teeth is wrong, but father knows better than him, and his body convulses at the substance, which is wrong. It's wrong to be wrong, but it's all Kirei ever knew. It's killing him, but his father wants him to eat it, so earnestly._

_Kirei wakes up in a cold sweat. Kirei never woke up. Kirei was always dreaming, or having a nightmare. Kirei hasn’t had a dream since he was a child. He was never a child. His childhood did not happen. He forgot about it, because it was a mundane childhood everyone had. His hands are fine, and his scars are from training and his own punishments. His father has never once hurt him. He has never had a right to complain about anything. Why would he complain? Why would he ever dream that his life was hard? It was a good life, an honest life. He loved God. He loved Jesus. He loved his father. He loved the Holy Church. Yet he loved none of it at all._

_His mouth runs with blood. Suddenly it tastes like nothing._

But Gilgamesh tastes like wine, because he always did. Nothing ever changed. Kirei's heart doesn't beat. Kirei's watching him, golden strands of hair in his eyes, brassy skin, a nose with a knot in it, and he already wants to forget. He just wants to remember the bad things, forever. He just wants to remember the evils in the world, because he loves them. Gilgamesh yanks _like a noose_ on Kirei's hair, his efforts doubling, as if Kirei were disappointing him.

_He is lying on the floor of that miserable beautiful church he grew up in, home, back in the countryside, and it was so warm there. Kirei remembered what it was like to be in the sun, it felt so long ago. He hated the sun. He hated everything there, but he loved it, didn't he? He doesn't know. His blood sticks to skin under his clothing, which was never his to begin with. It hurts, the blood. Not his legs lying mangled underneath him, bones broken out of the skin, poking and prodding but he can't feel them, not anymore, he promised himself not to feel them, he knows father wouldn't have wanted him to feel them. The flesh is twisted around every part of bone, like a spiral, or a rose, obscene white protrusions marring his perfect, ugly skin. He stopped crying a long time ago, back when he forgot how to be afraid, but tears still run down his cheeks. He doesn't know why. He is seventeen years old, and his father is standing over him, smiling so sadly, so softly, like he needs to give his son a gentle push to understand._

_"Kirei, just like you practiced. Don't worry. It's going to be fine. You're going to be fine."_

_Kirei can't nod. He focuses, foreign bodies in his hands sparking and colliding, collecting, it's outside him and inside him, bile rising out of his lips as one of the black keys manifests between his fingers. "Just one?" Father says, disappointed, and Kirei is so sorry. He's so sorry. He's so sorry. He's so sorry, he'll work harder right now. He has no punishment to be afraid of, because his father always rewards him with more training, even when he fails. He does not understand love. It is because he doesn't understand his father's kindness that he is wrong, wrong, wrong. He should be grateful for his fists. He should be grateful for throwing up, running on empty, fighting until his legs give out and his father sighs in exasperation. "Tomorrow, then." But he's so sorry. He has to work harder to make his father smile, because his father loves him enough to train him to be an executor._

_He slams the blade longways against his thigh. The pain is so much, he thinks he'll pass out, but he grinds it down defiantly, his rebellion against this body he's always despised, bulky, tiresome body, ugly body, weak ugly tiresome bulky hate disgusting hate not mine hate don't want it, get rid of it, not mine, not right, leave it alone, Kirei why are you staring in the mirror like that? Come on, you need to get going. It's nothing, even if it's a vile and wrong body. He doesn't care. He's a man. He must do it, father wants him to. One hand on the blade, the other on the handle, he saws through it like it's flesh and bone. What else would it be like? Kirei has never known anything else. The flesh is easy enough to work through, but the bone is stubborn. The wet sound it makes as it cuts is invading his senses. The skin, the muscle, the blood. The bone. The bone is difficult. It's the bone that's the problem, grating like steel, and he realizes he can't scream. His father doesn't make a sound. He's disappointing him again, but father still loves him. Because he cannot understand that love, he is wrong. He is wrong to hate his father. "Go on, Kirei. Just a little further. I know you can do it." He separates the broken leg from his body, and the relief, he's crying again, but he doesn't cry anymore. These tears are not real. He's imagining them. Men don't cry, and Kirei doesn't cry, and that isn't even the issue, anyway, making something out of nothing again, silly Kirei, sensitive Kirei, moral, upright Kirei, beautiful, perfect Kirei, sound-of-mind Kirei, always does the right thing Kirei. Kirei throws up again, and it joins the blood, the puddle, he lies in it because it's all he's ever known. It sticks in his hair that he hates. This is his father's love. Why does he feel a sinking suspicion his father would sacrifice his life without another thought? No, he’s imagining things. This is what it's like to be an only child with a doting father, he tells himself confidently, as he starts on the other leg. It hurts but it doesn't. Kirei isn't thinking anymore._

_Grating. Grating. Grating. Grating. Grating. Grating._

_Grating. Grating. Grating. Grating. Grating. Grating._

_Grating. Grating. Grating. Grating. Grating. Grating._

_He isn't thinking anymore._

_Grating. Grating. Grating. Grating. Grating. Grating._

_Grating. Grating. Grating. Grating. Grating. Grating._

_Grating. Grating. Grating. Grating. Grating. Grating._

_Grating. Grating._

_Grating._

_The leg comes off. Kirei isn't thinking anymore. "Next time will be faster," Father's voice. "A little too slow, but you'll get there. I know you will." Father's voice, fading. "You've never disappointed me once, Kirei. I'm so proud of you. I'm so lucky to have a son like you." Footsteps. Don't go, Kirei wants to cry, while more than anything, he needs to scream for him to never come back. But he never paid attention to what he needed._

"Kirei," Gilgamesh's voice. "Kirei!"

He's back. He was running away. How foolish. The stronger the Grail gets, the more energy it consumes, in big, writhing swathes, hordes of bugs, worms he wanted to stomp on, the more it does that, _keep it together._ The more the Grail completes itself, the worse this headache gets. His eyes hurt. It was his fault again. It's so easy to wrap himself in the darkness and lose himself completely.

"Don't run from me." Gilgamesh commands, echoing his thoughts. Suddenly, Kirei wants to cry. He doesn't know why. He can't imagine, in all his heart of hearts, why he would want to cry at that moment. Gilgamesh kisses him with fervor again, and Kirei wants to hurt. It's so much easier when it hurts. He doesn't have to think about Gilgamesh when it hurts, and he doesn't have to think about what'll happen when Heaven’s Feel is activated.

Kirei stumbles, distracted by the noise in his head, which he loves, he can't stand it when it's quiet, he can't stand it when it's quiet, but he tries, pulling Gilgamesh's jacket off his shoulders, and that's _happy,_ his brain reminds him, angrily, accusing him of trying to change again, accusing him of pretending he's something he's not, which is a broken, ugly, evil thing. He really did think, for a year or two, that he could bear telling him he was grateful for his weight beside him in bed, or on top of him, or underneath him. Or for his words, or his tongue, or his mouth, how foolish he was. How unreasonable to think he could've been peaceful, or solid, in one place, all together with neat seams and even stitches.

He hates himself. He hates what his brain does. He hates everything about Kirei Kotomine. _Forget._ He tells himself. _Set it aside. This is the last time. Don't waste it. Forget._

...He's running because he doesn't care about Gilgamesh, he realizes. He's running because he never cared at all. He never cared at all. It's because he never cared about him, he thinks, relieved by the admittance, that he can't let go of him yet. It's a great weight off his shoulders, and suddenly, he doesn't need to run anymore.

His salvation is his apathy. Gilgamesh sighs as Kirei finally reciprocates, and Kirei knows that Gilgamesh never cared about him too. They never meant anything to each other. That's how they are. That's how they always were. What a relief. What a relief.

He can't lose this opportunity. It's the last time. He doesn't care, but it's the last time he'll ever hold Gilgamesh this way. It's troublesome, but on a whim, he'll take him just as usual.

They fuck in the pews. Kirei doesn't think of anything but bright red eyes, strong shoulders, and narrow hips. He's so glad to feel nothing about him at all. It's saving him. More than any God, or any Satan-spawn the Grail would throw up, Gilgamesh saves him, he thinks, and he's looking forward to throwing him away like nothing, or being thrown away by him and forgotten forever.

Of course he has no wish for the grail. Why would Gilgamesh even question that? Gilgamesh truly knew nothing about him. They were never close. He wouldn't understand. And he’d never want to. Gilgamesh couldn’t care less.

Gilgamesh’s wrist rests over his eyes, his teeth grit. Kirei thinks he sees a wet glint beneath his eyelashes when he leaves him, but he can't imagine why that'd be, and figures he's mistaken.

 

* * *

 

**interlude 12-3**

Gilgamesh doesn’t come back to the church. Kirei knows why immediately. The noise in his head is unbearably loud. It's painful, painful, but he's happy like this. He's so happy like this. He'll never be happier than when he's alone.

He shuts the door that was barely open. _Thank you, you gave me solace._ He isn't able to even think those words properly. His eyes glaze over.

So he was the one to live. How quaint.

He rots.

 

* * *

 

**interlude 15-4**

He'd always end up like this again.

Just as he did all those years ago. _That golden person—_ It always comes back to the same things. _That servant I ate before—_

_I appreciate the fact you saved me._

Kirei lies on the ground as he bleeds. And he bleeds, and he bleeds.

Unlike back then, he isn't saddened by it. That no one would come if he cried out. Loneliness is good for him. Solitude. It suits him. He was never good around other people. No one ever wanted him around.

_Two people did, once. It was so long ago. Can't remember their faces. Can't remember her name. Can't remember his face. Can't remember what his touch felt like._

His brain assures him. If he remembered, he'd grieve. He can't grieve. He isn't allowed to. He won't allow himself.

What does he feel? _What do you feel?_ He asks himself. He has no response. He had saved Sakura Matou because he didn't want her to become like him, hadn't he? Had he? He isn't sure. Distant. He's an awful man, but he had wanted—

What had he wanted again?

It doesn't hurt. He thinks of twisting _twisting twisting twisting_ twisting up and dying, just like that. He wishes she had killed him. He's delighted she didn't. He shall see this through to the end, just like a proper villain would, but he's so goddamn tired.

A long time ago, Gilgamesh smiled at him, his lips resting against the rim of his wine glass. He promised many things. He told Kirei he'd change him for the better. Kirei had refused to believe him, but when he changed, he suddenly hung off every word that man said. Gilgamesh indulged him. Gilgamesh wanted him to do as he pleased. He spoke kindly of him, and he laughed at him and felt nothing for him and used him and slept in bed next to him, his back against his side, clutching a scarred hand in his two perfect ones. Kirei didn't revere him as a God, but felt something incredible whenever they were beside each other. It was just like Claudia, but he wasn't refusing himself this time. He'd learned to give way.

 _Yes, that's right._ He looks into the grey sky. _You wanted to kill him, too, didn't you?_

Sakura Matou killed Gilgamesh. He had wanted to. How pathetic. How sad. How pathetic. How sad.

His head capsizes as he sits up. When did Sakura leave? Ages ago? A few seconds? Something is leaving him. Something is going away. He's dying, but it feels like he's just thrown up something that was making him sick.

_You wanted to kill him. But more than that, you wanted him to love you._

_How strange. When she spoke of him, she spoke of what he knew of you._

_Are you happy? She used him against you. You should be happy he killed you. That's right, he killed you. You should be happy he killed you._

But is that really right? Suddenly he questions it.

Just like when he began his career as an executor, he laid on the ground in his own blood, decomposing, leaving behind more and more of his humanity as it stained his garments, seeped into the ground and grew disgusting things. His blood could never birth anything beautiful. _Hateful, ugly blood,_ he thinks, and he stands up, tossing away his bloody shirt.

The walk will be long, but that's alright.

 

* * *

 

The red sky that stops abruptly over their heads. For the first time in a decade, Kirei feels he's remembered something he forgot.

Whether or not it is evil, and whether or not it is good. What kind of life deserves to live? If living is sin, does no one deserve to live? Why be born? Why do humans continue in the first place?

If being born isn't the sin, then is it deviating from your purpose? The meaning of your life?

Kirei was born with a defect.

Everyone told him that. Since that war, it was all he could say of himself. That was the sin that drove him to misery, cutting himself open, slicing his flesh off and starving himself until he realized it wasn't for God. God wasn't going to forgive him. Maybe more than that, he wasn't going to forgive himself.

Impure thoughts, violent thoughts. He wanted his father to die, which was wrong. He hated the students his age that weren't on the advanced track. He hated the students in clubs in the arts. He hated the students who smiled, and laughed with each other.

Kirei knew this was wrong, and it destroyed him. Why was he full of so much hate? He had no reason to resent his father, who loved him. He never had a reason to hate those around him, surrounded by friends and loving families. Why was he so happy when they failed? More than that, why did he want to hurt them?

That was wrong. It was against everything he'd ever been taught. It was against his own beliefs, but it hounded his thoughts, it hung back behind him, a whisper, lower than a whisper, but reminding him always that evil lurked inside him, and no amount of cutting or fasting or prostrating himself before God would force it out.

If he had accepted himself from the very beginning, would he had lived happier?

That's why he fights, he thinks.

Countless blades shred his knuckles. Shirou Emiya has forsaken his humanity as well. That makes Kirei smile from the bottom of his heart. Despite everything, all the anger he's finally allowed himself, all the hatred he's finally admitted to, he's happy.

This was the fight he wanted.

He realizes it as Shirou strikes him every time. As their eyes had missed each other, as Gilgamesh sneered at him, as they looked away and grew apart. As Gilgamesh and him had given up on a charade of love, sleeping separately, barely speaking. As they had missed each other after that night, and as those command seals faded, as no trace was left, as Sakura Matou, the girl he sacrificed too much to save, consumed the man Kirei once imagined he cared for...

It just didn’t matter.

It never mattered if he had loved Gilgamesh or not, Kirei realizes. If that was love, and if Kirei had finally reached that humanity he desperately sought, it doesn’t matter. If embracing him, or being ordered around by him, or kissed by him, or cooking for him...if any of those ten years meant anything to Kirei Kotomine, that didn't matter.

Is this happy, or sad? Kirei isn't sure. It's a one-sided fight, but Kirei already knows, somewhere deep down. He isn't thinking about it, really, he's decided to enjoy the fight no matter the conclusion. Bare fists, something no one ever granted him. A fair fight. A real fight. No gunshots ringing, burning, sizzling, searing him shut, nothing to pour into it. The curse is seeping out of him, and he wonders if those ten years would've went differently if he had never died and been reborn.

—He should've taken Gilgamesh to Italy. He wanted to see Italy one more time. He didn't like Japan.

He had never spoken to Caren, but suddenly, he wanted to have. She must look like her mother— God, he remembers what Claudia looks like. Her laugh. He had hated that laugh, if only because he couldn't laugh with her, and his laugh was too ugly to join hers. He loved her suffering. If someone was worse than him, he’d survive, yet why did he cry? Why did that make him want to kill himself?

He had loved her. Yes, he remembers, now.

Shirou does his best to block Kirei's fists.

Bazett, she was a nice girl. It's too bad, he thinks. She would've been a splendid master. It was too bad he killed her. It was too bad he was such an awful person.

An oppressive weight slows his hands, his arms, his feet, his legs. He sends Shirou flying.

He wants to know. What would that baby tell him? What would Angra Mainiiu's answer be? Would he accept, or deny? Can evil be good? Is acceptance salvation?

...But what would Kirei be accepting, again? Maybe he was accepting the wrong thing? Gilgamesh told him to accept himself, but it didn't work, did it. That's strange.

The curse is leaving him. It's killing him, but something vital stays. He drags himself towards Shirou, with every intention to kill him. This is all he has left. Everything else has been taken from him. Everything, in all his life, has been robbed from him. Even the things he didn’t mind giving up, because they didn’t matter, because Gilgamesh, he didn’t matter, but...

—Did it really not matter?

Gilgamesh stayed with him for ten years. He lazed around the church at night and ran around town all day. Most days he was a pest, but Kirei didn't mind that. He was grateful for that. Gilgamesh, an evil man, a sinner, rejecting his nature as the Gods' chosen king, rejecting everything his beloved best friend taught him, living happily, smiling in that way that infuriated Kirei, if only because he could never smile in the same way. But Kirei did smile around Gilgamesh. He had never smiled before the Fourth war. He'd forgotten how to, but no matter how pathetic it was, and even if only in the face of disaster and pain, Kirei had smiled.

It doesn't add up, but Shirou's on his feet.

One swing, and Kirei's face bursts— no, a fantasy. He hasn't fallen apart yet. Just one hit, but he's surprised.

"You...still—"

"Kirei Kotomine—!"

He endures, endures, endures. Shirou beats him back. But this isn't like Kirei’s father, or any other fight. It isn't even like Kiritsugu's bullets. It's like a friendly sparring match that could kill either one of them. Kirei's anger is a joy. Shirou's anger is a joy, too. They understand each other. Kirei recognizes he's being understood. Even Gilgamesh could not do that. Gilgamesh, had...he been wrong about Kirei?

He doesn’t know.

Where had he lost enthusiasm? When Gilgamesh died? No, before that. When they brought Sakura Matou. That girl, he remembered what Tokiomi had said of her. It wasn’t until he encountered Gilgamesh that he realized he could hate a father for doing that.

He couldn’t intervene, it was troublesome. Rin was enough. She grew into a splendid mage, picking up Tokiomi’s craft better than anyone could have. He would have been proud of his daughter, but Kirei was perfectly happy to be prouder than he could’ve been. No father who loves his daughter would have done what he did to them both.

Rin was so strong. Rin had done so well. With this young man’s borrowed magic, she accessed Second Sorcery. As a teacher, Kirei was...was…

He had told Sakura she could run, because he...had remembered, what it felt like being unable to run. He had never pitied her. She was cut from a similar cloth, yet Kirei felt no ill will. She hadn't left herself behind after all. Shirou had saved her, and she had saved herself.  His goading had worked. But why would the villain have helped them?

Shirou Emiya, did Kirei hate him? Kiritsugu was unfit to be a father as well. These children, who had every intention to give up their lives for each other…

Did he want to stand in their way? The curse has left him. In a sense, he’s free.

He never could have survived. From the very beginning, he was doomed to die in misery. He was to betray himself and hurt countless, and live an empty, disgusting life where he deserved nothing in return. Even before the grail. Before he was born, even. That was his fate.

He became the perfect villain for them, but he's free now. Everything's gone. Everything he had ever had was gone. Everything he had ever been, ever loved or hated, had ever haunted him or gave him peace…

Gone.

One hard shot sends Shirou flying again. Kirei swallows down blood.

Even if Gilgamesh had been so awful, he had shown Kirei more kindness than any other man had.

Out of all their evil, Gilgamesh had shown Kirei he was worthy, just a little. That was enough, even if Gilgamesh was wrong. Even if Gilgamesh was a fool, being treated like he wasn’t a nuisance, and having someone by his side made him able to wake up in the mornings without dread.

Even if Gilgamesh would never feel the same, Kirei had loved him. He had loved many things, even though it didn't make sense. Even if loving them meant nothing in his life was fair. If Kirei was a cruel, evil man, incapable of love or emotion, all his suffering would make sense. But in the end, he couldn't even play that role to completion.

Again, he gives up before he reaches fulfillment. He has failed. Kirei was a failure in the end. Just as defective as he had claimed.

For having loved, and still having been an awful, unforgivable person, he deserves death.

Kirei trudges forward. He was unable to end the suffering of anyone he loved. He was unable to be there for the ones he loved most. He meant nothing, and he can't even regret it.

No, maybe all he feels is regret. But knowing something closer to the truth he sought makes him feel light. Yes, so light…

He raises his fist.

"Kotomi—"

He feels so light. He could cry, he feels so light. It just doesn't matter anymore. None of it ever did. His love, and his hatred, and his anger, and his sadness. None of that ever mattered. He will never truly understand his plight.

At least they didn't end up like him. God, at least they didn't end up like him.

He cannot move anymore.

"—ne?"

His fist falls limply. He cannot change his stance. His head is light, and his shoulders are light. It's as if all the world's evils have been drained out of him, and he's left like he was when he was born. Someone who had truly believed in kindness, and the good in others. Someone who had wanted to heal people, who would one day learn healing magic and pick it up like nothing, as if a piece of him that was missing had clicked into place.

If he was forced to be something else, it has left him, now. He's nothing anymore.

He shall die first. His body ceases function. Shirou is the winner of the grail war. The curse will never be realized. It is better that way. For no one to be hurt. The children don't deserve what he suffered.

"—Yeah, this is for hurting me so much. I'm going to mercilessly destroy your wish."

Here, Kirei smiles. This, of all things, this is his true salvation. He can die. He can die just fine. None of them will end up like he did. After trying so hard to die for so long, he finally gets to fulfil that desire. One he nursed ever since he first turned away from himself to listen to his father, who always knew better. The true dream of Kirei Kotomine was to kill himself from straying from the origin he knew differed from the purpose his father gave him.

Two defective people part ways. One begins his journey to heal, knowing that hope exists for people like him. No matter what he had lost, or what twisted forces changed him, he can work his way towards a happier life.

The other dies, content to never know the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok i hope that makes sense. i'm so tired yall i marathoned all of fate in a few weeks and then promptly hit an incredibly low point health wise, so... (: wahoo! i'm happy cuz i've been talking a lot about kirei lately nad people are like "you're so right and smart and you should always say correct things about kirei" and i'me like .... WOW! you're right thank you.  
> i hope that embodied some new points about him. i'm very sad about him. i hope rasputin in FGO goes somewhere with mild closure  
> okay quick addendum 2-12 because i'm NOT half asleep and incoherent posting this; i've made some quick fixes to grammar and spelling, but otherwise, i wanted to say yeah, there's some inconsistencies between the 1st chapter and 2nd chapter, andthat's because...! i actually played fsn the whole way through, and now the canon timeline and kirei's internal dialogue are more clear in my mind. if i had known more, i would've included rin in chapter 1 and phrased some things differently, but i worked with it.  
> i'm gonna be writing more introspective kirei stuff, don't worry! it doesn't stop here. you'll have to beg me to stop.


End file.
